


What souls are made of

by mintchocolate_gelato



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Biting, Dystopia, M/M, Scent Marking, Scenting, Sentinel Senses, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintchocolate_gelato/pseuds/mintchocolate_gelato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU and possibly crossover. Sentinels are human beings with heightened senses. Guides are human beings with emphatic powers, capable of soothing the mind of a Sentinel that otherwise would be overwhelmed by the sensory overload. Matthew Williams is a Guide that has been kept in captivity in one of the many towers run by the government, living a dull life and being taught that his only purpose is finding and bonding with a Sentinel. But this is a fate Matthew refuses to accept, even after he meets Sentinel Arthur Kirkland who may just possess a soul his own is willing to agree with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What souls are made of

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Chameleon](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11727) by velvet-mace. 



> This is a fic inspired by another fic from another fandom. And that fic was inspired by a rather obscure Canadian series from the 90's called the Sentinel. You can google it but it wouldn't help you understand this fic, from the moment the series was created the fandom deviated greatly from it. You are better off reading  
> [this](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Sentinel), the fanlore for the Sentinel fandom.
> 
> Thanks to  
> [Karukaikashi](http://karukaikashi.tumblr.com/) for the beta work ^^

_I laugh, I love, I hope, I try, I hurt, I need, I fear, I cry. And I know you do the same things too, so we're really not that different, me and you._

Matthew paces from one side of the room to the other, his eyes drifting back and forth from the door to the bed in the corner and to the cheerful yellow paper of the walls. The room has no windows, even though it is lit up with what seems to be natural light; it's rather creepy how they manage to imitate even the sun to make a cell more liveable. He is bored already; there is nothing but soap and a bottle of shampoo here, not even a book. The pillowcases are attached to the bed, and there is not a single pen or pencil, nor paper. They are probably afraid Guides will use them to cut themselves. _Could you die of a million paper cuts?_ At least the Guide floors had a mini library and a game room, but it seems the closer you get to being out of here, the more afraid they are of you ending it all... or escaping in Matthew's case. He really couldn't hope that after two failed escape attempts and an almost successful third one the Sentinels and the officers here would trust him.

He sighs thoughtfully and sits on the bed, putting his small suitcase next to him and opening it. He doesn't have much. When you are a Guide they don't let you own anything. You are property, first of the state and then of your Sentinel. Property cannot own property. Matthew has only a couple of t-shirts, a toothbrush, and a small white stuffed bear they gave him when he first stepped foot in the tower; he had been fourteen years old. He has kept it with him ever since, a symbol of his innocence long lost in the cold, unforgivable iron of the tower.

A robotic voice calls to him seemingly out of nowhere and wishes him good night. He is used to it, but that doesn't mean it becomes any less creepy as time passes. He knows not to fight the voice; the lights will turn off on their own at curfew anyway, and there isn't anything remotely interesting here worth staying up for. He cracks the bones of his back and starts undressing for bed, pulling off his current grey shirt and his sweatpants and neatly folding them on the edge of the bed. The pajamas he has are even more generic- a simple white shirt with nothing on it and a pair of black bottoms. Sometimes he wonders if his life will have colour ever again, beyond the grey and the white and the black. Here everyone seems to wear the same thing all the time. And Matthew has yet to get used to the dullness. He misses the red of his hockey hoodies and the shirts with different designs that he used to have. He misses wearing jeans and ridiculous animal socks. But hell, he misses everything, the cool air against his skin and the softness of the grass under his feet; he has seen nothing but brick and hard cold stone for four years. His eyes have forgotten the beauty of the outside, and his mouth longs for the pure air of the fields. He just hopes the person that would become his sentinel is nice enough to let him go off on his own to the woods sometimes.

Ever since he discovered he was a Guide, Matthew has been bombarded with the hopes and expectations of everyone else around him. When he was younger he had always thought that when the time came, he would fall in love and pick a Sentinel to bond with, and they could both be happy. Like in the movies where Sentinels fought bravely for the favour of Guides, and everyone lived happily ever after. That was, of course, before he was taken to the tower. In there, they all told him that getting a Sentinel was not only a high honour, but his natural duty. He was taught that he had to obey, lose his sense of self, because all his worth depended on him getting bonded. And since he began presenting the usual Guide symptoms during puberty, he had known they were partly right. A Sentinel was necessary if he wanted to keep his sanity; being born a Guide meant he was missing half of himself and the only way to recover it was to find it and grab on to it. He ached to protect someone, to soothe someone's mind, to bond with someone the way Sentinels and Guides were supposed to bond. It was instinctual, natural, a biological imperative no one had control over. He didn't hate nature for what he was born with, but he hated the men that had decided he was to be a prisoner, or a weapon they could use for their political manipulations to control him and those around him.

His father was a man that came from a long line of Guides. He hadn't been one himself, but his mother had, and his three brothers and sister had, too. He had been surrounded by them from their birth to the day they were bonded, so when Matthew first presented the signs of being a Guide, his father had panicked. He knew what went on inside the tower for Guides; he had seen it with his own eyes. He never wanted his son to have to go through that. But there was no helping it. No one escaped the Sentinels of the tower.

Matthew had managed to stay hidden with his father and sister for almost a year, living in a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere. Earth had been their only provider; they avoided markets, stores, gatherings of people, but not even distance could cover Matthew's scent forever. They had eventually found him and taken him in by force. His father is in jail now for trying to hide him from the state.

The tower changed him. He stopped having the fantasy of Guides being there to protect their Sentinels. The truth as he saw it every day was that Sentinels only looked at them as property, something precious to take care of like a fancy car or a very expensive pet. And he stopped wanting one, a long time ago, even though he knew the day would come when he wouldn't be able to escape being bonded, when his own body’s biology would demand it. But he had been dead set on delaying it as much as possible and had attempted escaping from this prison only to be dragged back and thrown into a dark cell.

The day had come, not by choice or by instinct, but by order of the high officials of the tower.

He was woken up at his usual time and served breakfast, then told his schedule of the day was cancelled- no empathy training today. The lead Matchmaker of the tower had come personally to his room and sat him down, told him they had a match for him, a really close one. And that Matthew would meet him tomorrow. He felt dread at first, followed by panic, then by depression, and finally by acceptance. His fate had been sealed the very moment he was brought here, and he'd had four years to come to terms with it. But some things never changed, and every glance to the door, every opening, meant a way out, a way to escape. He sketched the tower inside his head, trying to find some other way out than what he had already tried.

He was transferred to the interview room that very evening and told to make himself comfortable and prepare mentally. He needed to be calm, not a nervous wreck when his Sentinel arrived. After all, the other would be feeling whatever he was feeling. But he had been trained for four years to be able to suppress the negative emotions and expand the good ones. To shield and to turn that sensory overload every Sentinel felt into an advantage, not a disability.

When his pajamas are on, he lays back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. This is the last night he will spend as an unbonded Guide. The last night he will spend here...A shiver runs down his spine, and he forces himself to close his eyes. The darkness behind his eyelids is a million times better than the unnerving patterns of the wallpaper. But he doesn't sleep, not for a while, there is too much pressure inside his brain. Too much to think about.

He will lose his freedom tomorrow... or will he? Didn't he already lose his freedom when he was brought to the tower? Wasn't that the real turning point? But what if his Sentinel is one of those that see him as nothing but a necessary burden, a slave? Matthew knows that by nature, Sentinels feel adoration towards their Guides, and the feeling is mutual. But it isn't real. It's pure, raw instinct, it does not guarantee respect, it does not guarantee a good relationship, it does not guarantee love.

To keep his mind busy, he counts sheep, and when that fails, he counts beavers like the ones he used to see back home by the riverbank. Then as sleep is taking him, he counts bears jumping over a fence, just like the one that ate all their food on that camping trip with his father a million years ago. It becomes a dream, he sees the animal jump over the fence and run to meet him; it licks his face and makes a curious expression. Matthew is glad to see it- it is reassuring, he can feel the mind of the animal as it brushes his own and soothes it; its big yellow eyes are telling him to not fear, that everything will be alright. And Matthew thinks he has no choice but to listen.

 

*******

Morning comes way too early for Matthew's taste. The alarm they programmed for him goes off at eight. He ignores it for ten minutes, but then it becomes louder. He reaches a hand towards the wall and presses the concealed white button there, and as soon as he does, the alarm shuts down, but his finger stays glued to the button. He braces himself and bites his lip, and then feels it- a tiny pinch on his skin as the machine draws less than a drop of blood off it.

The robotic voice starts again and identifies him by name, by age, and by number of days he has spent in the tower. Matthew Williams, age 18, 1023 days in the tower. Far too long, far too many. He expects the voice to keep on talking; it would normally also tell him all his activities for the day, but today it falls silent. Matthew just glares at nowhere, thinking this is the first time he isn't glad there is no sound around him.

The door opens with a sliding sound and Matchmaker Wang Yao steps in wearing the usual cute smile he always has on before sitting next to Matthew on the bed.

"You are having breakfast with our candidate in half an hour. You should get dressed and shower quickly."

Matthew nods and stands up, getting a clean t-shirt from his small bag. He has long given up trying to reason or talk to this man- he doesn't listen, he is a traditionalist and wants things done his way or else...

"Don't be nervous Matthew."

"I'm not..." It's a lie.

"Come on, don't lie to me. I've seen this happened a million times; of course you are nervous. But you have to remember, it's going to be alright, yes?"

_How can it be alright if you are using your empathy to make me believe I'm calm? How can it be alright when you are here at all? When I'm here at all?_

"Yes, sir."

The Matchmaker beams and smiles even though Matthew is still not alright. Even though he knows Matthew is not alright. "Good. Now, I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I thought you would like to know that we had three candidates for you until yesterday. Sadly one of them went on a hunt and came back bonded. We couldn't consider him anymore, though you would have made an excellent match with him. But the one we found, oh, you are going to love him Matthew, and he is eager to meet you. I just spoke to him a few minutes ago. You both had your little troublemaker phase here, but that only makes you more compatible."

Matthew doesn't answer, he just sighs and holds on to the fabric of his pajama pants with a tight grip. Troublemaker? Did he try to escape too? Matthew doubts it. Why would a Sentinel try to escape? They had everything, every privilege possible. He doesn't even bother trying to hide the tremble of his hands; Yao can read his emotions anyway.

Normal people often did not understand what the empathic abilities of Guides were capable of. When untrained and inexperienced, a Guide could simply tell the emotions of those around him- they saw them in their minds, felt them in their nerves, but they knew they weren't their own. They could distinguish between themselves and others.

When they are taken to the tower, Guides are blank canvases- raw emotions pile up together in a massive explosion of light inside their brains, and everything is white. They’re taught to colour that canvas, using as paint the memories of the emotions they now feel in others- red for rage, blue for sadness, yellow for distress and sickness. It's a kindergarten system that teaches the brain to associate emotions with a visual image. As Guides become even more powerful and empathic, colours begin to take the careful form of clearly defined shapes.  For example, Matthew's mind had always associated the colour blue and the song of the nightingale with sadness; when he was younger, his dad used to draw nightingales to fight depression, and he softly imitated their song with whistles and taps of his finger on the wood of his colour pallet. Every time Matthew feels sadness in someone, a nightingale materializes inside his brain. And, as if it were a real bird, Matthew can catch and train the nightingale- then send it off in flight again to his original owner, or release it into the world as energy.

With more training, Guides could not only see the emotions of others, they could also control them. They used their own mental energy to dive into others' minds, twist and pull and fix until the emotions of the other person were exactly what that Guide wanted them to be. The most powerful Guides could do it without the other person ever finding out. And not only that- there were rumors that extremely powerful Guides could use those emotions to manipulate the actions of others. Of course, this was only legend, and inside the tower, it was forbidden talking about such behavior.

All these rules apply to normal people, but the equation changes dramatically when Sentinels appear within it. Most normals fear Sentinels and for good reason. Sentinels are human beings too, but they are born with five senses that are three times as powerful as normal ones- eyesight that has no problem seeing in the dark as if it is day, ears that catch sounds that are as far as half a mile, a nose that can detect extremely faint scents, and lastly, a skilled set of limbs and a very sharp and perceptive sense of touch that allowed them to perform physical and athletic tasks with minimal effort. All that would make up the perfect human machine, and to normal eyes, they were. But it came with great disadvantages. The world was full of sounds, of smells, of colours; it was full of drama and movement as sharp as it could get, especially if you were a Sentinel. Sometimes the combination became too much, the senses would overload, and the Sentinel's body would give out. Zoning out was frequent when all senses were so sharp that the Sentinel couldn't focus on any of them, so their mind just gave up. This is where Guides came into play.

The training Matthew had received covered the basics; it taught him to shield his own emotions from the sharp senses of Sentinels to avoid affecting them. It also taught him to transmit his own emotions to the more sensitive mind of a Sentinel in order to soothe it. Natural instinct drives him to that anyway- all Guides are born with some kind of radar that alerts them to a Sentinel's distress, and their empathy kicks in, helping the Sentinel get out of the hole his mind has fallen into.

The bond between a Sentinel and a Guide is one of co-dependency. The Guide needs to protect and produce calmness; the Sentinel needs to keep all the senses in check. Bonds ensure they both are able to perform these tasks for most of their lives with someone with a mentality similar to their own.

Nature is wise- she makes Sentinels to protect those around them with their senses, and she makes Guides to protect Sentinels. Matthew only wonders who protects him.

"Shh, Matthew, shh. It'll be alright." Those long fingers pat his head and tangle in his blonde curls, and Matthew feels momentarily disgusted, but he pushes the feeling back and wills himself to calm down. But then the hand is grabbing him hard by the chin and is forcing Matthew to look down into those empty black eyes. "You have given us much trouble, Matthew. You have cost us more than you are allowed to. If it's the last thing I do, I will have you bonded tonight. I would have rather ended this the first time you tried to escape, but the Sentinels don't take well to people shooting Guides. They are stupid, you see, easily controllable, all bound by instincts and brutish force. We Guides have the brain, Matthew. You need to learn to use it."

"Okay, okay... fine" He is afraid, and he lets it show. If Yao senses that he is afraid, maybe he'll assume Matthew is taking him seriously. Anything to keep this man off him. Any lie.

"Good boy." The hold on his chin loosens and then finally lets go. The anger disappears as quickly as it came, and the pleasant smile comes back. "Now, off you go! You have twenty minutes."

He stands up and walks towards the narrow bathroom, keenly aware that Yao's eyes are on his back, and grabs the bar of soap and the shampoo from the cabinet above the sink, setting them both down on the shower floor before turning the water on. He doesn't start taking his clothes off until he hears the sound of the door closing again, signaling the matchmaker's departure. He sighs in relief and takes the pajamas off without care, throwing them to the floor, this is the last time he'll wear them anyway.

The water feels good against his skin, not too hot as to send him in that drowsy state that plagues you after waking up, but not cold enough to make you acutely aware of reality yet. The foam of the soap is soft against his skin, and he rubs and rubs and rubs, as if wanting to cleanse himself thoroughly from the matchmaker's touch and the bed he slept in today, or maybe all the beds he has ever slept in while in the tower and all the chairs he has ever sat on.

Clothes are laid out for him when he comes out of the shower. He isn't sure why Yao didn't mention he was giving him different clothes to wear, but he isn't complaining. A new pair of black pants and a blue t-shirt- still pretty generic but they look good on him... Maybe this is another trick, to make him seem even more attractive to the Sentinel courting him. Suddenly he doesn't like them.

There is a Sentinel, a bonded one, standing outside his door when he is done. He escorts him through the narrow hallway of dorms -cells- where all the guides about to be bonded live and takes him down with the elevator to the second floor of the tower. There is a neutral cafeteria here. The Sentinels have their own on the middle floors of the tower, and the Guides one at the very top. But the one they are taking him to serves only bonded pairs; no one would bother them here. 

Yao is waiting for them already, and before they enter the cafeteria, he dismisses the Sentinel and gestures Matthew to come closer. He is holding something in his hand that Matthew can't identify at first, but when he does, his eyes go wide.

"Turn around, Matthew…"

Matthew swallows. He stares at the red collar Yao is holding in his hand and lets, for a split second, his fear out of the shield of his mind. The reaction is instant- the Sentinels passing by stop in their tracks and turn to look at him, study him, try to find the source of his fear and destroy it. The Guides stop too, some of them sending comforting signals back right away, by instinct. At least twenty minds suddenly connect with Matthew's- it makes him panic at first, the huge influx of information all made of different things. Minds are all different; they are like bumpy textures under the veil of his own mind. He can tell all of them apart, but he doesn't know to whom they belong; he needs a face for each of them. They calm him down enough; they send the message... He isn't alone, they can't hurt him, he isn't the only one here. And with that in mind, Matthew sighs and raises his eyes slightly to look at Yao's.

"Do I have to?"

The matchmaker frowns and nods.

"You are only making your Sentinel wait, Matthew. Yes, of course you have to! This is basic etiquette, tradition."

There it goes, he thinks, the last piece of dignity and freedom. If he ever had any in this place.

Trembling, and still using the effects of the soothing empathy sent his way, Matthew manages to turn around so that his back is facing Yao, and he bends his knees a little to make the height difference easier for the much smaller Chinese man.

The leather feels cold against his skin, but it settles nicely around his neck, not loose, just tight enough to remind him that it is there at all times. He hates it.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

The door of the cafeteria opens, and the passive aggressive response Matthew had prepared stops on the tip of his tongue. Inside there is only one man.

 

*******

Yao pushes him inside the cafeteria and then gets in himself before closing the door. Matthew can hear the soft clicking of the lock as it turns and effectively breaks that one last barrier between himself and his fate. He is trapped here with no escape and a strange unbonded Sentinel staring at the distance. The feeling is strong; there is a mind too raw and too open right in front of him, almost begging to be contained. There is distress there, Matthew can feel it, and his biological imperative is making him want to fix it. He doesn't move even though Yao coos at him and gestures him to move forward and closer. The silence grows piercing, and he can swear he hears a loud noise inside his head going from one ear to the other; it takes him a few minutes to realize it is coming from the Sentinel. This man has been unbonded a long time, and it is starting to become too much for him. He is showing signs of not being able to control his senses anymore; Matthew can feel his pain.

"Can you shut your mind, boy? You are giving me a headache!" The voice cuts through the silence like a recently sharpened knife. It has an accent, thick, and hot resounding feeling against Matthew's ears. The words take a few seconds to process, but when they do... “Oh.” His barriers were down, his nervousness, his anger were completely out in the open, and this Sentinel, unbonded as he is, would have felt them tenfold.

The first step is hesitant. The floor beneath his feet begins trembling even though Matthew knows it is perfectly steady- it is he who is trembling. There is a slight shiver that runs down the Sentinel’s back, Matthew's fault again. He fights with himself; the Guide inside him pushes at his mind to open the barrier, to shield the Sentinel from his own emotions and from Matthew's. But the rest of him knows that the moment he does that, he is raw and vulnerable and open to any advances the Sentinel may make on him.

"Calm your mind, Matthew," Yao tells him from the back, like a shadow almost blended to the wall.

Calm his mind, he can do that. He can prevent the Sentinel from sensing his distress without opening the barrier and embracing him yet. He thinks of home, of his mother making bread in the big ovens they had, of his father making apple pie with the crop that he had raised and harvested himself. He thinks of his little sister with her two pigtails and red ribbons, fishing for salmon on the lake. His mind goes white for a second, and he knows he isn't transmitting any emotions anymore. He is as calm as he is allowed to be in this situation. The Sentinel relaxes right in front of his eyes, his shoulders drop, and the alertness of the muscles of his back fades. There is no Guide in distress so close to him anymore, no one to save, just Matthew. And Matthew finds a strange feeling of satisfaction at being able to calm the Sentinel down.

The man stands up abruptly from the table. He is shorter than Matthew, which is strange for a Sentinel, but he has a presence about him that he uses to move around the room with ease, as if he controlled it, as if everyone in it should bow down to him. Matthew's instincts almost want to obey that. The Sentinel isn't handsome, not in the traditional way, but there is a sensual air to the features of his face, to the way his nose curves up slightly near the end, and to his eyes, green, like the water of the coral reefs, except not warm, but cold. A coldness of someone who has spent their life fighting for a lost cause. Of course, he doesn't miss the eyebrows, thick and blond like shields to the green orbs of the eyes and concealing a piercing at the very top. Only a single gaze is spared to Matthew as the man moves to the table where all the food is set up for them. He picks up a cup with expert fingers, and Matthew watches him almost fascinated as he prepares tea with the devotion and love of a true Englishman. He crushes black tea leaves that go first to the bottom of the cup; then water, so hot it could be boiling, reaches to just a bit below the edge, leaving enough space for milk and sugar.

"Matthew, you should have offered to make the tea," Yao scolds him without moving from his spot against the wall, but Matthew barely hears him; he is looking at the Sentinel, at his hands- long, delicate fingers roughened near the edges. "It is your task, Matthew, not his."

"I can fucking prepare my own bloody tea, thank you!" the Sentinel snaps and puts the kettle down with a loud thud, hot water falling on the table. He turns around and reaches for the door, trying to open it by kicking it, even though the lock is outside.

Matthew stills and watches. In all the four years he has been here no one he has met has dared to yell at Yao like that, and he is sure the matchmaker won't stand for it. He isn't wrong. Yao makes a sign with his hand, and soon enough, a pair of bonded Sentinel guards break through the door and take hold of the Sentinel's arms. Matthew watches the Sentinel struggle and hit one of the guards successfully on the shin, but it isn't enough. They have him immobilized on the ground with his tea cup in minutes. Yao approaches with big steps and stands in front of the Sentinel, examining his face. For a few minutes, it looks like nothing is going to happen, but then, the Sentinel starts screaming and grabbing both sides of his head with his hands.

It takes knowledge of the empathic abilities of a Guide to know what Yao is doing, and Matthew has been trained in them for the past four years. He feels the huge wave of energy that comes out of Yao's mind and slowly creeps inside the Sentinel's. He has never seen empathy used in its pure destructive form against a Sentinel; he didn't even think it was possible. But here it is, a Sentinel in danger of becoming too overwhelmed by his senses and zoning out and a Guide responsible for it. Matthew wonders how many times has Yao done this with Sentinels that misbehaved- he is pretty sure it is at least illegal.

"If that's not enough for you," says Yao with his voice low and poisonous, devoid of any of his previous sweetness, "I have a tranquilizer in my pocket, and unless you want to wake up in one of those isolation rooms you have loved so much in the past, you will sit back and enjoy the ride, understood?" Part of Matthew wants the Sentinel to keep fighting back, to defy Yao one more time. Maybe he could even help this time. But the pain the Sentinel is in is apparent in the thick scent of the room, and the biology ingrained in Matthew's mind prevents him from wanting the Sentinel to hurt more. So he is partly relieved when the Sentinel says nothing, and simply turns his head, green eyes glaring at the floor. "Good. Now that we are all on the same page, let's proceed with our business. The sooner we get it over with, my dears, the better, don't you think?"

The guards let go of the Sentinel at the same time, and one of them carries him towards the table and sits him down forcefully on the chair. The other one does the same to Matthew; he is a normal -neither Guide nor Sentinel- so he has little reservation about grabbing Matthew by the arm with bruising force and dropping him on the chair right in front of the Sentinel's.

"Very well. Arthur, this is Matthew, your new Guide. I suggest you two talk it out and eat something. We'll give you one hour of privacy to just do that, and you better put it to use. Otherwise, we'll come back and force you into much more than talking, and we both know you wouldn't be able to resist that, Arthur- you are almost at your limit."

The Sentinel... -Arthur, that is his name- doesn't say anything. His eyes remain fixed on that spot on the ground where his teacup broke, and Yao seems to take that as acceptance, even though every single neuron and nerve in Arthur's brain seems to scream “piss off.” Matthew can feel it with his own mind, so he is sure Yao can feel it too.

The door to the cafeteria clicks again, and Matthew is aware that now, they are truly alone.

"Save it, kid. I'm not doing anything to you."

 _Save i...t?_ OH, fear. Matthew's brain is transmitting fear, and the Sentinel is picking it up with his own senses- it must be drawing too much attention. He takes a deep breath and forms calming thoughts. He imagines a waterfall, a candle, all those soothing images he was taught to conjure inside his mind in situations like this.

"You may as well eat, kid. I don't think they will give us anything later on."  
  
Matthew stands up slowly from his chair and nods. He knows it is true. There are plates full of food in front of him right now, but if he does not take advantage of them, then Yao will have no qualms about letting him starve all day, and Matthew is not risking that. Hunger lowers his defenses somewhat and leaves his brain out into the open. With a Sentinel so close, that was not only reckless, but also dangerous.  
  
A plate of still-smoking hot waffles calls to him, and with a resigned sigh, he puts two on a plate. He is not hungry right now, but he will be at one point.  
  
"Do you still want tea?" His voice comes out steady even thought he would have thought it would be very much the opposite. It is the first time he speaks since he was put inside this room, so he hadn't trusted his vocal cords.  
  
"I already said it, kid- I can make my own bloody tea. I don't need a Guide to be babying me; is that clear? I don't care how much they got it inside your head that I need your magic powers. I don't, so don't get in my way." For such a small man, this Sentinel is awfully confident. Matthew understands what Yao was getting at when he had said Matthew and this man were somewhat alike, and he was not talking about the huge ego- no, it was their will, the fact that neither of them wanted to be here.  
  
"Alright. But I was only asking to see if I could use the kettle to make some for myself." There is no hiding the smile from his voice, and so, the Sentinel notices it too.  
  
"You weren't offering..." he says, as realization dawns on him.  
  
"No, I wasn't. And if I were, it wouldn't be because you are a Sentinel. It would be because I'm a nice person. It seems I wasn't the only one taught things here, was I?" Matthew smirks and then reaches for the kettle still full of hot water, pouring only one cup and letting the tea leaves steep for a minute before removing them.  
  
Two waffles with butter, and jam, and tea. That should do it. He sits at the table and looks back, somewhat pleased to notice that the Sentinel is still looking at him.  
  
"It is not polite to stare, you know." He thinks he will get an insult for that, a 'fuck off,' or a smarter and snarkier comment. But all he gets is a frown and a glare that sets deep inside his soul, but he doesn't relent.  
  
The Sentinel grabs toast and jam and sits across Matthew on the table. And that, is when Matthew can see it. There is a snake curled around the man's wrist, green and bright, small too, probably poisonous. Her body is not completely solid though. It's rather transparent, like a hologram. But nonetheless, it hisses softly at Matthew as it realizes it has been seen. Matthew has seen them, spirit animals, but they are known to only appear when they want to or when their human is in trouble. Matchmaker Yao has a panda; Matthew has seen it a few times.

Years of research have never been able to figure out why spirit guides exist. Both Sentinels and Guides have them, but normal people don't. Within the esoteric and spiritual world, the theory that they appear as reflections of the soul of the being they accompany is often predominant, but if that were true, matchmaker Yao would be much more harmless than he truly is.  
  
The Sentinel follows Matthew's gaze to his arm and then quirks up a brow as he bites his toast.  
  
"I thought it was not polite to stare, kid?"  
  
Matthew blushes and looks away, cutting his waffles and taking a bite too.  
  
"Sorry." And his voice is muffled, tinted with embarrassment. "I have only seen a few, in the Guide ward... They didn't like to show up in the communal areas, but I heard a few Guides talking to them in their rooms."  
  
"She freaks people out sometimes. It's strange that she showed herself to you. She normally doesn't do that." The Sentinel frowns down at the snake and reaches to pet it as it carefully disappears again under his arm. "What's yours?"

"I..." Matthew starts, his eyes fixed on the table. "I only ever see him in my dreams. He has never shown himself to me while I'm awake. He is a white bear; I dreamt about him last night."

The Sentinel studies him for a moment, then, leans in slightly, closer to Matthew in order to whisper. They are not naive enough to think Yao and the other Sentinels are not watching and possibly listening to everything they are saying right now.

"I believe, sometimes they help us. Spirit guides, they can read our emotions, and then well, they guide us as the name tells you. Did yours say anything in your dream, anything that may help us get out of this? Anything at all. I know you don't want this; your body screams that you don't really want this... bonding. Then help me. I don't want any of this, either."

Matthew's eyes look away from the green ones, because the pull is there, and it's impossible to not follow it.

"All he said was, 'Don't be afraid- everything will be alright.’"

"I see." The hot breath of the Sentinel almost hits his cheek, and Matthew wants to draw back even more, to get away from that spicy scent that plagues the man's body. But he feels like this is important, that this very moment will define something between them, even though he doesn't exactly know why or what. "Why, why did they choose you for me? I honestly thought they were going to let me die from sensory overload; I'm too much trouble for them. What did they think you could accomplish with me? Did they say you may be able to put me on the correct path? That after I bond with you, I will serve them as they surely want me to?"

"They say we are alike," Matthew whispers back. "They told me we have both tasted what it is like to fail, whatever that means."

The Sentinel looks surprised, but after a long moment of silence, he shows understanding on his face and then he leans forward to Matthew's ear even closer.

"Did you try it, too, kid? Escaping out of this prison? Did you defy them? How did you fail?"

"Three times." He is breathless now, as he answers. The closeness is making instinct kick in, instinct he doesn't want at the moment. "Three times I've tried to escape from here. Yao told me I would bond this time, or he would get rid of me. I have caused him trouble, too. Did you..." But Matthew knows the answer to that already; he can feel it in the air. That's why they are so compatible, that's why Yao chose them to bond, because they both defied him, and they both lost.

The Sentinel pulls back and sits firmly against his chair again. He clears his throat, and there is clearly a grin painted all over his face. Then, he extends a hand.

"Arthur Kirkland."

Matthew takes it and squeezes it firmly, his head tilting in a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Matthew Williams."

 

**TBC**


End file.
